


Not Worth the Dust

by MauveCat



Series: Family Snapshots [10]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MauveCat/pseuds/MauveCat
Summary: IRIS is keeping an eye on things.
Series: Family Snapshots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729411
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Not Worth the Dust

_I will have such revenges on you both,_

_That all the world shall – I will do such things –_

_What they are, yet I know not, but they shall be_

_The terrors of the earth!_

_\----King Lear, Act 2 Scene 4_

* * *

Julia Tate stood nervously in front of the heavy steel door, waiting to be buzzed into a place that was completely outside of her comfort zone. Her purse had been scanned for weapons and contraband and she'd been frisked twice already. Not exactly a typical day for your typical worker bee – sure, her business card said she was an associate clinician at Drury Counseling Solutions, but “worker bee” was more accurate. The clinic mainly provided services like family therapy or addiction counseling. They had a few clients, however, with more... unusual situations.

For example, imprisoned for life in a high-security, low-access, _extremely_ intimidating prison.

As she understood it, their client wasn't pleased with the court-mandated psychotherapy he'd been ordered to undergo. He'd filed protests and objections, and he'd essentially fired the first two organizations that the court had assigned. A few months ago DCS had been contacted by Dr. Marley, a consultant who appeared to be overseeing his case. No one had met her in person but she'd taken the unusual step of speaking to everybody on staff at least once. Apparently they satisfied her because she asked the director to submit an application to take over the case; since there weren't any other centers asking for the job, the courts had agreed.

Julia had been hired as a specialist in dialectical behavior therapy but even after putting in a few years, she still hadn't been assigned any patients of her own. Her supervisor seemed happy enough with her work as a junior team member but that was as far as she'd risen. She was used to being assigned the grunt work and today was no exception; somehow most of her coworkers were tied up with other cases, and three – three! – people had called in with sudden emergencies. Julia had been the only one free so she was tapped to make the latest document run. That was another example of how high-maintenance their client was. He refused to deal with any materials that were transferred electronically so every time he had another ream of documents (supposedly proving his complete sanity) for his therapists, someone had to drive up to the prison and retrieve them. Today, it was Julia's turn. Rather than objecting to the long drive, Julia leaped at the chance to prove that she was willing to go the extra mile – literally, in this case – and that she could do more than assisting other counselors or pulling together background material.

At least the prison didn't look as scary as the ones she'd seen on TV. She'd researched it online and the few prisoners in the facility were all in what amounted to solitary confinement. So on one hand, she wasn't expecting to see throngs of prisoners milling around, hooting and hollering at her. That was reassuring.

On the other hand, she'd seen _Silence of the Lambs_ at an unfortunately impressionable age.

She jumped as the door buzzed and slowly slid back. Two armed guards stood in the doorway. The one with the clipboard said, “Name?”

Julia put on her professional face. “Julia Tate, Drury Counseling Solutions.” He held out a hand without looking away from the clipboard and Julia turned over the documents she'd been told to have ready: her driver's license, her work ID, and the various letters from the court authorizing her visit. The guard handed the pile over to his companion without glancing at them.

He finally looked at her. “Purpose of your visit?”

It was the same question she'd been asked at two previous checkpoints and she could answer it easily by now. “I'm here to pick up some documents from Everett Rourke so his therapist can read through them before their next session. I also have some reports that he requested – the prison has already approved them.”

“Yeah – the prison, his lawyers, the courts, everyone but the good lord in heaven says it's okay to give him that folder.” The other guard finished reading the letters and handed back the IDs. “We'll make copies for our records and you can pick up the originals when you're ready to leave,” she said. “I suppose you're aware of Rourke's requirements?”

She nodded. “My supervisor briefed me. I have to leave my phone outside of the visitation room and I can't wear a smartwatch or anything similar.”

“Sounds like you're set.” The first guard looked down at her and a hint of concern poked through his professional facade. “You're ready for this, right? Rourke can be tough to deal with.”

“Oh, yes. I've dealt with dangerous clients before.” She hadn't. Julia hoped she sounded more confident than she felt but judging by the guards' skeptical faces, she probably didn't.

“We'll see. Leave your bag in the locker there and follow us.” Julia pulled out a thin manila folder out of her purse and put the bag in the small locker. She was relieved that her hands weren't shaking. One of the guards led the way down the hall and the other fell in step beside her. Julia racked her brains for some safe topic, something that wouldn't make her sound naive or scared, but before she could come up with anything the guard stopped in front of yet another heavy door, with yet another guard near a table. There weren't any chairs, and a patch near the door seemed to have been freshly painted, as if something set into the wall had been removed and patched over. Probably a keypad. “Is he in there?”

The third guard nodded. “They just brought him in – kicked up his usual fuss about the light fixtures, the sprinkler system, you name it. Had to make sure he was in the room they ripped all the wires out of. He should've calmed down by now, though. The Plexiglass shield is in place. Got checked out earlier today and it's sturdy. Should hold up.” Julia took a deep breath.

The guard next to her nodded at the table. “You can leave your bag right there – you can't take anything in with you except the papers you brought for Rourke.”

“All right.”

One of the guards stepped forward. “You can leave that folder on the table for a minute. Empty your pockets and arms out, please,” she said.

“What – oh, of course.” Julia put her lip gloss and a few pieces of peppermint candy on the table, then held her arms up as the guard patted her down, paying special attention to her jacket pockets. She even checked for earpieces and ran a quick hand over Julia's close-cropped black curls. “My phone and smartwatch are both in my purse already – I took care of that in the car.”

“Yeah, you said so earlier but we have to verify. Glad your boss had a talk with you. The last therapist wasn't smart enough to do that and he got a text in the middle of the session. Ended up having to sedate him – Rourke, I mean, but the therapist probably needed something too.”

The guard frisking her stepped back. She said, “Are you sure you're ready? You're not here for an actual therapy session so you don't have to go in there. We can handle the document transfer if you want.”

“No, it shouldn't take long. I can do it.”

The guard at the table said, “If you say so. We gotta close the door for confidentiality but it won't be locked – we'll hear you if you call out, and we'll be keeping an eye on you through the window in the door. Wish we still had a security camera in there, but...” He shrugged.

As he began unlocking the door, Julia tried to calm herself. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds, exhale for eight. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven –

The last lock was turned. The guard pulled the door open and with one final exhale, Julia walked in.

As the door closed behind her, Julia scanned the room quickly. It was divided in half: part of it was a thick wall with a heavy door, set with three different locks, and the other side was a floor-to-ceiling Plexiglass shield. Like she'd seen on the other side of the wall, there was a patch in the wall where a light switch should have been. She looked up and saw where an overhead light fixture had been removed; it had been replaced by several battery-operated lanterns fixed to the walls, similar to the one she'd just bought for her next camping trip. There wasn't any furniture on her side of the room, and none she could see through the Plexiglass. Safety measures like that were never a good sign. And on the other side of that shield....

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rourke. I'm here from Drury –”

“Yes, yes. So they've sent someone new. How lovely.” The voice, at least, was familiar. When DCS took over the case she'd gone online to do some research on their new client and she'd watched some old news stories from before and after Everett Rourke's arrest. If the voice – smooth, controlled, casual verging on bored, with no effort to conceal a deep-seated sense of superiority – hadn't changed, the man behind it had. The carefully trimmed goatee had lost its shape and so had Rourke. _Probably not many opportunities for working out in solitary confinement,_ Julia thought, but she kept her expression schooled in a neutral, politely attentive mask.

Rourke's posture was still ramrod straight, though, and he trained a sharp stare on her. “But where are my manners? I'd offer to shake hands, but as you can see – ” He gestured gracefully with his free hand at the shield in front of him. There was a gap the size of a large mail slot but that was the only opening. “I'm afraid we must forego the niceties. I am, as you know, Everett Rourke. And you are...?”

Julia swallowed the urge to remind him that she had already tried to introduce herself; she'd been prepared for an attempted power play but she hadn't expected it to come in the first three seconds. “I'm Julia Tate from Drury Counseling Services. I have the documents you requested, Mr. Rourke.”

“Excellent, excellent. And as you can see, I have some of my own to send back with you.” He indicated the thick pile of papers under his arm. “You've read the contents of the folder you carry, of course.”

“Actually, I haven't. I'm not specifically assigned to your case so I'm not cleared to read anything in there or anything I pick up today.”

Rourke tsked. “A stickler for rules. You'll never get ahead with an attitude like that.”

Tilting her head to the side, Julia shrugged. “It's more because I have enough of a workload as it is. But if you'd prefer me to leave, I'm sure Mr. Douranian would be more than happy to go over these papers during your next session.” She started to turn around but stopped when Rourke chuckled.

“Very well, young lady. I can see you're not interested in playing games.” But the glint in his eyes suggested that he was. “I don't wish to keep you from your workload, so let's make our little trade.” He slid the sheaf of documents through the slot; they barely fit.

Julia stepped forward to accept them. She felt a sudden twinge in her side but kept her face still. As she carefully shifted Rourke's handwritten papers to the crook of her arm, she passed her folder toward him. He stepped forward with an avid expression. Julia blinked. For just a second, the lantern behind Rourke seemed to flicker with a blue light but it was gone so quickly that Julia dismissed the thought; it was probably just stress.

She turned her attention back to Rourke as he opened the folder. He frowned when he saw its meager contents. “Is this all?”

“That's all they gave me this morning.”

Rourke's lips thinned as he skimmed the papers. “I clearly requested full status reports on the experiments I was working on when – ” His voice trailed off. “They're... gone? They shut down _everything?_ ” He glared at her accusingly and Julia shook her head; she honestly had no idea what he meant. He went to the next sheet. “Masada, the observatory, even the hotel. All the buildings are gone, all the equipment, all my samples and experiments removed. They even went after my other research sites in the States, in England – they're all gone. There must be something in storage. Even _they_ wouldn't have destroyed everything.” Again, Julia shook her head to indicate that she didn't know. Rourke's breath began coming more quickly. “Those bastards. Both of them, sharper than a serpent's tooth indeed. They're no children of mine. Still trying to thwart me at every turn.”

Julia stepped back casually toward the door, holding the thick ream of paper in front of her as if it was some protection against the rage she saw building in the man's eyes. This was probably a good time to make her exit. Nothing good ever came from someone who used words like “thwart.” “I'm afraid I can't help you with any of this. So if you don't mind – ”

“ _Mind?_ ” Rourke flung the papers down and began pacing. “I should have expected this. After all, what's one more betrayal? All my work, all my plans, uprooted by my ungrateful....” He glanced at the lantern next to him and froze. Julia blinked. There it was again, just for a moment – that blue glow was back.

Rourke turned slowly and pinned Julia with a cold, flat stare. “You. You're working with her, aren't you?”

“Her? I don't know what you mean. I thought Mr. Douranian is your – ”

With an unearthly howl, Rourke flung himself at the Plexiglass shield. It trembled but held firm. “You brought her in with you!” he shrieked. “Imogen! Show yourself, you bitch! IMOGEN!”

The door behind her flew open and just in time, Julia stepped aside so the guards didn't trample her as they rushed inside. One of them grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room, pushing her against the wall outside as a horde of other guards came running down the hall.

Leaning against the wall, Julia gasped for breath and tried to slow her racing heart. She clutched the papers to her chest; she'd be damned if she dropped them at this point. After a few moments, the guard standing in front of her looked back. “Okay, miss, I think your interview is over.”

“I think you're right.” She didn't protest as he took her arm and guided her through the hallway, guided her toward freedom.

When they reached the reception area, Julia retrieved her purse and nodded at the restroom. “Is it okay if I take a minute?”

The guard let go of her and nodded. “You look like you could use a few. Take your time.”

“Thank you.” Once the door closed behind her, Julia put the papers and her bag on the counter and pulled her phone out. She switched it on – only one missed call with an accompanying text: “Please call at your earliest convenience. There is no emergency and no need to hurry.” Julia smiled; Dr. Marley was always considerate when it came to letting people know whether she expected immediate replies or not. She always texted in full sentences as well; maybe that was because she was English. She'd return the call when she was back in her car, just as soon as she took care of one thing.

Tugging her silk blouse out of her waistband, Julia took a small black device from her purse. She held it to the white disk attached to her waist for a moment, then checked the display. Good. Her blood glucose levels were just fine. That twinge she felt earlier concerned her but the monitor didn't seem to have malfunctioned – it might be a good idea to tell her doctor about it, though. She'd been worried about what would happen if the device started beeping or something while she was in Rourke's cell. After all, she'd signed all the waivers, all with slightly different wording, acknowledging that she knew Rourke didn't want devices or technology of any kind near him. Normally she wouldn't risk an opportunity to interact with such a high-profile client; on the other hand, now that her diabetes was finally under control she didn't intend to risk her health either. Maybe Rourke didn't want any gadgets nearby but if it meant living a normal life, Julia was more than willing to walk around with a tiny computer chip attached to her stomach every day.

With a satisfied nod, she put the device back in her purse. Once she had herself tucked and tidied, she looked down at her hands... now they were shaking. Well, at least she held on until the crisis was over. She grabbed a paper towel and ran some water over it, then scrubbed at her face for a few minutes. She'd worry about her makeup later.

When she felt like she had regained her self-control, Julia took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and left the restroom. The guard looked her up and down as he returned the authorization letters – she'd almost forgotten them. “Do you feel okay to drive?”

“I'll be fine. I might stick to the back roads until I make sure my nerves are settled, though. Is there anything else I need to do before I leave?”

He nodded and held his clipboard out to her. “Just sign out here so we can verify that you left in one piece,” he said with a crooked grin.

“Gladly.”

Once she was in her car, Julia leaned back and took a few deep breaths before making sure Rourke's papers were safely stowed away in her purse. She'd never hear the end of it if she came back without them. For a moment, she struggled with the temptation to flip through them – just a quick glance wouldn't hurt, right? Instead, she grabbed her phone, zipped her purse closed and put it behind her seat. Rourke had been right about one thing: she _was_ a stickler for the rules. She'd already broken one today, and that was her quota. She took her phone and redialed the last number.

“Hello, Ms. Tate.” Dr. Marley's voice, British and mild, and as calm and precise as it had been the last time they spoke. “I assume your encounter with Mr. Rourke was uneventful?”

For a moment, Julia considered glossing over Rourke's eruption or even ignoring it altogether. She didn't want anyone to think she had been intimidated or that she couldn't handle difficult situations. After a moment, though, she said, “I'm afraid not, Dr. Marley. There was an outburst. He got pretty angry when he saw the document from his son. He was screaming a woman's name, too. I'll be honest – I was thankful for the Plexiglas and I was glad the guards were on the other side of the door.”

“Oh, dear.” Dr. Marley sighed. “I was afraid that might happen. Did he frighten you?”

“No, no,” she answered quickly. “He didn't threaten me, nothing like that.”

“I'm glad to hear it. I must also thank you for your honesty. Several of your colleagues had similar experiences but they chose to downplay them. That is... unwise. Tell me, is he still exhibiting his King Lear obsession?”

Julia frowned. King Lear? She thought hard, trying to remember the semester of Shakespeare she took her sophomore year. “Is that the one with – oh, wait, he was yelling about a snake's tooth.”

Dr. Marley laughed. “Serpent's tooth, but yes. The poor man has been identifying quite strongly with Lear for, oh, I'd say a year now... railing about his ungrateful children, swearing his revenge, and, I fear, turning quite, quite mad. At any rate, it sounds like you kept your composure. That's the best way to deal with him, you know.”

Trying to keep her excitement to herself, Julia said, “I appreciate that. Does that mean that I might be expected to deal with him in the future?”

There was a brief silence and Julia winced; she might have overplayed her hand. Before she could think of a way to backtrack, Dr. Marley spoke. “I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any reservations. You are, after all, rather young. That reflects more on the calendar than your maturity or abilities, however. I've been over your previous cases, and I've been in contact with your direct supervisor as well as others in your organization. They all agree that you show great promise, and I've seen nothing to make me disagree with their assessment.”

Julia allowed herself a single fist-pump. “Dr. Marley, I swear that I won't waste this opportunity.”

“I'm sure you won't. Still, I feel that I should warn you. Mr. Rourke has a habit of demanding new therapists whenever they fail to agree with his self-assessment of his sanity. If there was an incident today – even a brief one, as you said – it's likely that he'll refuse to accept you as a therapist. Even if he does, I doubt that you'll have more than a few chances to interview him. On the other hand, you might be glad to see the back of him after a few sessions. If that happens, my recommendation should be some small help in making sure you don't lack for other opportunities.” The slight humor in her voice faded. “However, Julia, I have one stipulation and I must make myself perfectly clear. You have read all of his case materials, I'm sure. How closely did you follow the events on La Huerta as they happened?”

Sitting back, Julia thought back a few years. “I'd just finished college when it was going on. It took a few months... well, honestly, it was over a year before I got hired at the center so I had time to watch all the coverage. I wasn't sure what to think when the trial started. I mean, none of the kids from the island were talking much and you have to admit that Mr. Rourke came off pretty well at first. But when news started leaking out about what was going on down there – private armies, all those poor people he put in suspended animation for God knows what reason – and then when he started ranting about aliens and crystals and how he'd ended the world already... well, I'm in no position to make a formal diagnosis but I wouldn't argue with anyone who called him insane, in both a clinical and legal sense.”

'He is.” Dr. Marley's voice was cold. “He _is_ insane but, more importantly, he is evil. I can't stress that enough, Ms. Tate. It's not a word to be used lightly, but I use it without reservation. Everett Rourke is evil. No matter what he might say, he hasn't resigned himself to his fate. He's manipulative and devious, and he has the ability to hone in on anyone's vulnerabilities. He will do anything to further his goals. You can never lose sight of that fact. Even if you don't join his treatment team, it would be prudent to make sure your colleagues are fully briefed on what you witnessed.”

Julia took a deep breath. “Dr. Marley, I became a psychologist because I want to help people. But I want to protect them too. If a patient can't be helped, and if they're a danger to anyone else, they have to be contained. I understand that can't be avoided with some patients.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Some of the warmth was back in Dr. Marley's voice. “Well. This has been a helpful chat, Ms. Tate, and I meant it when I said that I intend to speak to your supervisors on your behalf. I suspect you have too much potential to be used as an errand girl. I think you would be an excellent addition to any team... but I believe there must be one change to the existing methodology. I know that your organization's policy calls for one-on-one consultations, but Mr. Rourke is a particularly dangerous individual. I think it would be best if you and your colleagues operated in pairs from this point on, and I will strongly recommend a change of procedure to reflect that. As I said, he's extremely manipulative but if he doesn't have a single person at a time to work on, his usual tactics won't be nearly as effective.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Julia hesitated. There was something in Dr. Marley's voice, something beyond a purely clinical interest in the case. “I'm wondering, though. Do you think it might be helpful if you interviewed him in person?”

Laughing, Dr. Marley said, “There aren't many things I'd enjoy more. Unfortunately, my present situation makes travel... problematic at times. However, I can safely say that I'll be keeping an eye on him from where I am.”

“Of course. Thank you so much, Dr. Marley. When I write up my report, would you like me to send you a copy?”

“I'd appreciate that. Thank you, Ms. Tate. I can tell that you'll be a great help in assisting me as we monitor Mr. Rourke.”

“I hope so – I'll be in touch.” As she hung up, Julia sighed happily. She was sorry to learn that she wouldn't have a chance to work with Cordelia Marley in person any time soon, but it looked like her career was finally on the right path.

* * *

_You are not worth the dust which the rude wind_

_Blows in your face._

_\----King Lear, Act 4 Scene 2_


End file.
